Chapter 4 Chapter Four

Mr Entwhistle had a very restless night.He woke up in the morning feeling tired and uncomfortable, so he didn't get up. His sister, who helped him with the housework, brought him breakfast for him, and scolded him severely at his age and poor health for traveling all the way to North England. Entwhistle said with satisfaction that Richard Abernether was an old friend of many years, and he was willing to go. "Funeral!" said his sister very disapprovingly. "Funerals are inauspicious for a man of your age! If you don't take care of yourself, you'll be called away as suddenly as your precious Mr. Abernether."

The word "suddenly" made Mr Entwhistle wince.It also silenced him.He didn't argue with her. He knew exactly why the word "suddenly" made him cringe. Cora Lansquenet!Her hints were indeed quite improbable, but, in any case, he was going to see her at Richter St. Mary.He could say that it was something about probate and that her signature was needed.No need for her to assume he noticed her stupid remark.He was going to see her--and quickly. He finished his breakfast, lay back on his pillow, and read The Times.He found The Times very agreeable. At fifteen to six that evening, his phone rang.

He picked up the receiver.The voice on the phone was that of Mr. James Pillatt, currently the second shareholder of Bernard Entwhistle & Co. "Listen, Entwhistle," said Mr. Pilate, "I just got a call from a local policeman named Richett St. Mary." "Richett St. Mary?" "Yes. It seems—" Mr. Pilate paused for a moment.He seemed a little troubled. "About a Mrs. Cora Lansquenet. Wasn't she one of the heirs to Abernethir's estate?" "Yes, of course. I saw her at the funeral yesterday." "Oh? She was at the funeral, wasn't she?"

"Yes. What's the matter with her?" "Oh," Mr. Pilate's voice sounded apologetic. "She's - it's very strange - she's been - oh - murdered." Mr. Pilate uttered the last words with great bitterness.It means that word should not have anything to do with Bernard Entwhistle. "was murdered?" "Yes—yes—I'm afraid so, yes. Oh, I mean, there's nothing to doubt." "How did the police find us?" "Her valet, or housekeeper, or something—a Miss Gilchrist. The police asked her about her next of kin or her relatives and their addresses, but she knew us. So they called at once. coming."

"Why do they think she was murdered?" asked Mr Entwhistle. Mr. Pilate said again in an apologetic tone: "Oh, well, there doesn't seem to be anything to suspect—I mean with a hatchet or something—of a very violent crime." "robbery?" "That's what they thought. A window was smashed, some trinkets were lost, drawers were pulled out, etc. But the police seemed to think afterward that there might be—er—maybe a bit of fraud." "When did it happen?" "About two to four o'clock this afternoon." "Where was the butler at that time?"

"To change books at the library in Reading. She came home about five o'clock and found Mrs. Lansquenet dead. The police wanted to know if we knew of anyone who might have murdered her. I said," Mr. Pilate said. The voice sounded very angry. "I think that's the most unlikely thing." "Yes, of course." "It must have been some local idiot--thought there might be something to steal, and then lost his mind and set about her. It must be--well, don't you think so, Mr. Entwhistle?" "Yes, yes . . . " said Mr. Entwhistle absently. Pilate was right, he told himself.It must have happened like that...

But he was disturbed to hear Cora say cheerfully: "But he was murdered, wasn't he?" Such an idiot, Cora.Always have been.Hastily plunged where angels would not dare to tread...Suddenly an unpleasant truth emerges... truth! It's that damn word again... Mr Entwhistle and Inspector Morton looked at each other. Mr. Entwhistle provided the inspector with all the information concerning Cora Lansquenet in a rigorous manner.Her parentage, her marriage, her widowhood, her financial status, her relatives, etc. "Mr. Timothy Abernether is her only surviving brother and next of kin, but he is a recluse, an invalid, and cannot leave the house. He authorizes me to make all the necessary arrangements."

The inspector nodded.He was relieved to have to deal with the shrewd old lawyer.He further hopes that the lawyer will assist him in what is beginning to seem a bit confusing. He said: "Miss Gilchrist told me that Mrs. Lansquenet went north to attend the funeral of one of her brothers the day before she died?" "Yes, Monsieur Inspector. I was there myself." "There was nothing unusual--no peculiar--or worried about her manner?" Mr Entwhistle raised his eyebrows in feigned surprise. "Is there usually something odd about a man who's going to be murdered soon?" he asked.

The Inspector smiled wryly. "I don't mean she's showing signs of deathbed excitement or anything. No, I'm just trying to find—well, something that's different from usual." "I don't think I quite understand you, Mr. Inspector," said Mr. Entwhistle. "It's not an easy case to understand, Mr Entwhistle. Let's say someone watched Miss Gilchrist and saw her leave the house at about two o'clock and go into the village to the bus stop." The man then carefully took the hand-axe which lay under the woodshed, broke the kitchen window, entered the house, went upstairs, and struck Mrs. Lansquenett with the hand-axe--killed her viciously. About six Up to eight." Mr Entwhistle flinched - "ah, yes, quite inhumane. Then the intruder pulled out some drawers and took some trinket of cheap value - perhaps only ten pounds in all , and then get away."

"She's in bed?" "Yes. Seems like she came home late the night before, exhausted and in high spirits. From what I understand, she got some inheritance?" "yes." "She slept very badly and woke up with a terrible headache. She drank a few cups of tea and took some headache medicine, and then told Miss Gilchrist not to disturb her until lunch. Still feeling unwell, she decided She took two sleeping pills. Then she asked Miss Gilchrist to take a bus to the library and change some books for her. When the man went in, she was groggy, if not asleep. She could have He could just as easily have gagged her by threatening to take anything he wanted. It seemed too much to take a hatchet from the outside first, cautiously."

"He might just be trying to threaten her with it," suggested Mr Entwhistle. "If she wants to resist—" "According to the medical evidence, she showed no signs of resistance. Everything seems to indicate that she was sleeping peacefully on her side when she was attacked." Mr Entwhistle changed his sitting position uneasily. "I've heard about these brutal, kind of dead-on murders," he pointed out. "Oh, yes, yes, this case may be the same. Of course, any suspicious characters have been alerted. None of the locals are involved, we are quite sure. We have filtered them all. Most People in the village were working during that time. Of course her house was at the end of an alley outside the village, and anyone could easily go there without being noticed. The alleys in the village were like a labyrinth. The weather that day Well, it hasn't rained for a few days, so there's no sign of a car - if anyone drives by." "You think someone drove by?" asked Mr. Entwhistle suddenly. The inspector shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just saying there are some odd features to this case. For example, these—" He tossed a handful from the table—a trefoil brooch with a small pearl, an amethyst brooch, an Small strings of pearls, and a garnet bracelet. "These were taken from her jewel box. Just left in the bushes outside the house." "Yes—yes, it's a little strange. Maybe the murderer was terrified afterwards—" "Possibly. But if it's what you say, then maybe he'll leave them upstairs in her room . . . between the bedroom and the front door if he's going to panic, of course." Mr Entwhistle said calmly: "Or, as you suggest, they may simply be used as a blindfold." "Yes, several possibilities. . . and of course it could have been that Miss Gilchrist. Two women living together—you don't know what quarrels, resentments, or abnormal feelings might arise. Ah, yes. Well, we're taking that possibility into consideration. But it seems unlikely. They seem to get along pretty well in all respects." He paused, then continued, "According to you, no one benefit from the death of Mrs. Lansquenet?" The lawyer moved uneasily. "I didn't say that." Inspector Morton looked up suddenly. "I think you said that Mrs. Lansquenet's source of income was an allowance from her brother, and that as far as you know she has no personal property." "True. Her husband died penniless, and from what I've known of her since she was a little girl, it would be strange if she ever saved a dime." "The house itself is rented, not her own, and the few pieces of furniture are not worth mentioning even under today's living standards. Some fake so-called 'villa-style oak furniture' and some fake artist style paintings. She won't get much money from whomever she leaves--that is, if she ever makes a will." Mr Entwhistle shook his head. "I don't know about her making a will. You know, I haven't seen her for years." "So what the hell did you mean just now? I think, what's going on in your head?" "Yes. I was thinking. I hope to be precise." "You mean the inheritance you mentioned? The inheritance that her brother left her? Does she have the right to do what she wants?" "No, it's not what you think. She has no right to dispose of the principal. Now that she is dead, it will be divided equally among the other five beneficiaries of Richard Abernether. What I mean is that. Once she dies, the five of them will Automatic benefits." The inspector looked disappointed. "Oh, I thought we were making progress. So it doesn't look like anyone had an incentive to come and get an ax at her. Looks like some crazy guy--maybe one of those juvenile delinquents-- There are a lot of them these days. Then he freaked out and threw those worthless trinkets into the bushes and ran away... Well, that must be the case. Unless it was the very respectable Gilchrist Mademoiselle—I must say that seems impossible." "When did she find the body?" "It was almost five o'clock. She took the four-fifty bus home from the library, went in through the front door, went to the kitchen, put a kettle of water on the boil, and prepared tea. Mrs. Lansquenett's room There was no movement in the room, and Miss Gilchrist concluded that she was still asleep. Then Miss Gilchrist noticed the kitchen window, which was full of broken glass. Even then, she thought it might be some little boy using A ball or a slingshot. She went upstairs and peeped into Mrs. Lansquenet's room to see if she was still asleep or woke up for tea. Then, of course, she screamed Get up, run out in a hurry, and go to the nearest neighbor's house. Her story seems to fit perfectly, and there is no blood in her room, bathroom, or her clothes. No, I don't think Miss Gilchrist has any The doctor arrived at the scene at five-thirty. He judged the time of death to be no later than four o'clock--and probably very close to two, so it seemed that whoever the man was must have been around until Miss Gilchrist left. .” The lawyer's face twitched a little, and Inspector Morton continued: "I think you're going to see Miss Gilchrist?" "I just want to see her." "That's all right. I think she's told us all she can tell us, but it's hard to tell. Sometimes in the conversation, a point or two might pop up. She's a little old lady—" -but quite sensible and down-to-earth - she's really helpful and efficient." He paused and said: "The body is in the morgue, if you want to see--" Mr Entwhistle nodded halfheartedly. A few minutes later he stood looking at the mortal remains of Cora Lansquenet.She had been brutally attacked, and the wounds were clotted with reddish-brown blood.Mr. Entwhistle bit his lips, and looked away disgustedly. Poor little Cora.The day before yesterday she was so eager to know if her brother had left her anything.She must have woven beautiful dreams for the future.She could have used the money--did a lot of stupid things--and enjoyed herself. Poor Cora...how short-lived were her expectations. No one gained anything from her death--not even the ruthless murderer who threw away the worthless trinkets as he fled.Five people could get a few thousand pounds more of their stake - and that's more than enough for them to start with.No, they are not motivated enough. It's ridiculous that the word "murder" came to Cora's mind the day before she herself was murdered. "It's murder, isn't it?" Such ridiculous words.absurd!Absurd indeed!Too ludicrous to mention to Inspector Morton. Of course, after she had seen Miss Gilchrist—if Miss Gilchrist—though that was impossible—could reveal a little of what Richard had said to Cora— "From what he said, I do think—" What did Richard say? "I must see Miss Gilchrist at once," said Mr. Entwhistle to himself. Miss Gilchrist was a frail, old woman with short iron-gray hair.She had the face that women so often see in their fifties or so. She greeted Mr Entwhistle warmly. "I'm glad you're here, Mr. Entwhistle. I really don't know much about Mrs. Lansquenet's family, and of course I've never been exposed to murder before. It's horrible!" Mr. Entwhistle was sure that Miss Gilchrist had never touched a murder before.She did react like his shareholders. "One always reads, of course!" said Miss Gilchrist, driving the crime to their domain. "Even in books I don't like to read much. Most of them are so nasty." Mr. Entwhistle followed her into the drawing-room, and looked round suddenly.Has a strong smell of oil paint.The house is crowded, not because there are too many furniture, which is just like the one described by Inspector Morton, but because there are too many paintings, the walls are covered by paintings, most of them are very dark and dirty painting.But there are also some watercolor sketches, one or two of which are still lifelike, and the smaller paintings are piled up on the windowsill. "Mrs. Lansquenet used to buy pictures at auction," explained Miss Gilchrist. "It's one of her great interests, poor her. She goes to every auction-house around here. Paintings are cheap these days, not worth a penny. She never pays more than a pound, sometimes for a few shillings." It's available, and there's a good chance, she always said, of a valuable painting. She used to say it was an Italian pre-Renaissance painting, and it might be worth a lot of money." "Mr. Entwhistle looked suspiciously at the Italian pre-Renaissance painting she pointed out to him. Cora, he recalled, knew nothing about painting. If one of these poor works was worth five pounds, he would Eat his hat! Of course, Miss Gilchrist noticed his expression and guessed his reaction quickly. I don't know much about it myself, although my father was a painter - a less successful one, I I'm afraid to say so. But I used to paint in water colors myself when I was a kid, and I've heard people talk about it a lot, and it would be nice for Mrs. Lansquenett to have someone who knows how to talk to her. Poor Honey, she loves art so much." "you like her?" What a stupid question, he told himself.She might answer "no"?Cora, he thought, must be a woman to live with that would be exhausting. "Oh, yes," said Miss Gilchrist. "We got along very well. In some ways, you know, Lansquenet talks like a child. She says what comes to her mind. I didn't expect her to be always right--nobody She would say this about the dead—she is simply a stupid woman——An Huisuo changed her words and said that she is not a woman with knowledge." "No—no—probably not. But she's very shrewd, Mr Entwhistle. Really shrewd. It surprises me sometimes—how she hits the nail on the head." Mr. Entwhistle watched Miss Gilchrist with more interest.He thought she wasn't stupid herself. "I suppose you have been with Mrs. Lansquenet for several years?" "Three and a half years." "Are you—er—her squire who also does—er—oh—housekeeping?" Apparently he triggered a delicate topic.Miss Gilchrist blushed a little. "Oh, yes. I cook mostly--I love to cook--and do some cleaning and light housework. Nothing heavy." Of course, Miss Gilchrist's tone means a firm principle.Mr. Entwhistle, not knowing what the so-called "heavy" was, grunted in agreement. "The rough ones are done by Mrs. Pender in the village. Twice a week. You know, Mr. Entwhistle, I didn't intend to be a servant. When my little teahouse failed - terribly - it was The war, you know. A delightful place. I call it the 'Willow House', and all the china is blue-printed willow--beautiful--and the cakes are really well done, Then the war came, the supplies were scarce, and it was all over—a war-caused loss, I always say that, and try to make myself think it. I lost the little money my father had left me, and I took that A little money was all invested in it and then of course I had to get a job. I never had any training. So I went to do it for a lady and it didn't work - she was so rude and arrogant and then I sat Office—but I didn't like it at all, and then I came to Mrs. Lansquenet, and we hit it off from the beginning—her husband is an artist." Miss Gilchrist stopped here , and then said sadly: "But how much I love my lovely teahouse. How noble the customers are who often go there." Mr. Entwhistle stared at Miss Gilchrist, and suddenly felt a sense of familiarity—hundreds of ladies-like figures appeared in front of his eyes, among countless people named "Bay" and "Red Cat". , "Blue Parrot", "Willow House", "Yi House" and other teahouses, all wear blue, purple or orange work clothes, and receive guests with refreshments in fine porcelain.Miss Gilchrist once owned a "House of the Soul" - a teahouse with all the elegance and luxury of the old society, with a regular clientele of suitable and high class.There must be a lot of Miss Gilchrist-like ladies all over the country, he thought, who all looked alike, with a docile, patient face, stubborn upper lip, and somewhat thinning gray hair. Miss Gilchrist continued: "But I really shouldn't talk about myself all the time. The police were very nice and understanding. Really nice. There was an Inspector Maulton over from Headquarters who was really understanding. He even arranged for me to go to Mrs. Lake's at the bottom of the lane. Went to spend the night, but I said 'no'. I felt it was my duty to stay here, with so much of Mrs. Lansquenet's stuff in the room. They swallowed--" Miss Gilchrist In one breath--"The body was removed, and of course the room was locked, and the inspector told me that an officer would be on the night in the kitchen--because the window was broken--I'm glad it was fixed this morning--I Just got there?—oh, yes, so I said it didn't matter that I stayed in my room, although I must confess that I moved a chest of drawers against the door and kept a jug of water on the windowsill. It's hard to say--and if it's a madman--he's heard of it..." Miss Gilchrist stopped here.Mr Entwhistle said quickly: "I already know the general process. Inspector Morton told me. But if you don't find it too embarrassing, I want to hear your—?" "Of course, Mr. Entwhistle. I know how you feel. It's very impersonal, isn't it? Of course it's true." "Mrs. Lansquenett came back from the funeral the night before yesterday," said Mr. Entwhistle, starting quickly. "Yes, the train she was on was late. I took a taxi to fetch her as she had ordered. She was very tired, poor--that's natural--but on the whole she looked Feeling pretty good." "Yes, yes, did she talk about the funeral?" "Only talked a little bit. I made her a glass of Ovaltine - she didn't want anything else - and she told me the church was packed and there were lots and lots of flowers - oh! she said she Pity I didn't see her other brother - Timothy - did you?" "Yes, it's Timothy." "She said she hadn't seen him for more than twenty years, and she wished he had been there, but she was quite aware that he would think it better not to be in that situation, but his wife was there, and she always I can't stand Moody--oh, God, please forgive me, Mr. Entwhistle--I slipped--I never meant--" "Never mind, never mind," Mr. Entwhistle encouraged her to go on. "I'm not related to them, you know. And I'm sure Cora and her sister-in-law don't always get on very well." "Oh, that's pretty much what she said. 'I knew Moody was going to be a bossy, meddling woman', that's what she said. Then she got tired and said she was going to bed right away--I've helped She got the hot water bottle ready—she went upstairs." "Do you remember anything else in particular she said?" "She showed no signs of being killed, Mr. Entwhistle, if that's what you mean. I'm sure of it. She was really, you know, in good spirits - except tired and - kind of sad, talking about sad things. time. She asked me if I'd like to go to Capri Island. To Capri Island! Of course I said that would be great--it's a place I never dreamed I could go--and she said, 'We'll Going!' That's it. I figured—of course she didn't mention it—her brother left her a pension or something." Mr Entwhistle nodded. "Poor darling, oh, anyway, I'm glad she's at least enjoying the plan." Miss Gilchrist sighed, and murmured wistfully, "I think I'm going now." Not Capri—" "What about the next morning?" Mr. Entwhistle quickly started talking again despite Miss Gilchrist's disappointment. "The next morning Mrs. Lansquenett was very ill. She looked really ugly. She didn't sleep nearly all night, she told me. Had nightmares. 'That's because you were so tired yesterday.' She said, she said maybe. She ate breakfast in bed and stayed up all morning, but by lunch she told me she still couldn't fall asleep. 'I feel restless,' she said, 'I've been I was thinking wildly.' Later she said that she would take some sleeping pills to see if she could have a good sleep in the afternoon. Then she asked me to take a car to the library to help her exchange two books, because she had read them for almost a week. So I left just after two o'clock, and that--that--was the last time--Miss Gilchrist's nose started clogging. She must be still asleep, you know. She must have heard nothing, the Inspector told me Guaranteed she didn't suffer...he thought the first ax killed her. Oh my God, it makes me so sick just thinking about it!" "Please don't, please don't be so sad. I don't want you to tell me how it went down. I just want to hear what you might tell me about Mrs. Lansquenet before the tragedy." "Very normal, I'm sure. Make sure to tell her relatives that aside from a bad night's sleep, she's really happy and looking forward to the future." Mr Entwhistle paused before asking a second question.He wanted to question carefully so as not to be suspected of extorting evidence. "Did she not mention any of her relatives in particular?" "No, no, I don't think so." Miss Gilchrist thought for a while. "Except she said she regrets not seeing her brother Timothy." "She didn't say anything about her brother's death? His—er—cause of death? Something like that?" "No." There was no sign of alarm on Miss Gilchrist's face.Mr. Entwhistle was sure that if Cora had ever mentioned the murder to her, there would have been a look of alarm on her face. "He's been ill for a while, I think," said Miss Gilchrist vaguely, "though I must say I was surprised to hear he had died. He looked so strong." Mr Entwhistle said quickly: "You've seen him—" "When he came to see Mrs. Lansquenett. Let me see--about three weeks ago." "Did he spend the night here?" "Oh—no—just came to lunch. He came quite unexpectedly. Mrs. Lansquenet didn't expect him to come. I guess there might be a rift between them. She hasn't seen him for years, she tell me." "Yes, that's right." "She was quite disturbed--seeing him again--maybe knew he was very ill--" "She knows he's sick?" "Oh, yes, I remember quite well. Because I suspected--only in my own mind, without saying it, you know--that Mr. Abernethie might have been afflicted with softening of the brain. I had an aunt-- " Mr. Entwhistle deftly diverted the subject of her aunt. "Did Mrs. Lansquenet say something that reminded you of encephalomalacia?" "Yes. Mrs. Lansquenet seemed to say 'poor Richard. Mortimer's death must have made him very old all at once. He sounded rather old. Fancy some persecution and something One's trying to poison him. Old people are going to be like that'. As far as I know, she's quite right. That aunt of mine I told you about - was convinced her servant wanted to kill her poisoned her food until she ate only boiled eggs—because, she said, you couldn't put poison in boiled eggs. We used to joke about her a lot, but if it was now, I don't know if we would What to do. Eggs are so few and mostly imported, so even boiled ones are always risky." Mr Entwhistle turned a deaf ear to Miss Gilchrist's aunt's adventures.He is very disturbed. When Miss Gilchrist was at last quiet, he said: "I suppose Mrs. Lansquenet didn't really mean what she said?" "Oh no, Mr Entwhistle, she knows quite well." Mr. Entwhistle found it disturbing to him too, though he did not mean what Miss Gilchrist meant. Cora Lansquenet really understands?Not at that time, maybe, but later on.Does she know very well? Mr. Entwhistle knew that Richard Abernether was not old.Richard's bodily functions were still completely under his own control.He's not the type to suffer from any kind of persecutory paranoia.He was—as he always was—a level-headed businessman—and his illness hadn't changed him. It seemed anomalous that he would say that to his sister.But perhaps Cora, who was as eccentric as a child, heard the overtones, and carefully picked out the clues from what Richard Abernether actually said. Mr. Entwhistle thought that Cora had always been a complete fool in every respect.She's nonjudgmental, unbalanced, and has only a child's rough, childish perspective, but she also has a knack for a child's astonishing mystery, which can sometimes be quite shocking. Mr. An Huisuo's aesthetic education continued on this line of thought.He thought Miss Gilchrist had told him all she knew.He asked if she knew whether Cora Lansquenet had left a will, and Miss Gilchrist answered quickly that Mrs. Lansquenet's will was in the bank. After asking this question and making some further arrangements at the same time, he took his leave and left.He insisted on Miss Gilchrist taking a small cash sum for present expenses, telling her that he would be in touch with her again and that he would be grateful if she would stay in the same house until she found a new job.Miss Gilchrist said it was a real convenience, and she was really not at all nervous about staying in the house. He couldn't escape Miss Gilchrist showing around the house and being introduced to Peary, who huddled in the little dining room.Lansquenet's paintings, the ones that would have terrified Mr Entwhistle--mostly nudes that lack skill but are faithful to the substance.He was also forced to admire some small oil paintings of the fishing port that Kona himself painted. "Porpeiro," said Miss Gilchrist triumphantly, "we were there last year, and Mrs. Lansquenet was thrilled by its beauty." Mr. Entwhistle, looking at Polberot from all angles, agreed with her that Mrs. Lansquenet was indeed painting it enthusiastically. "Mrs. Lansquenet promised to leave me her sketches," said Miss Gilchrist eagerly. "I admire them. The waves are so lifelike in this one, isn't it? Even if she forgets, I might keep one as a souvenir, don't you think?" "I believe it can be arranged," said Mr. Entwhistle kindly. He left after making some further arrangements, went to the bank to see the manager, and then went to have some further talks with Inspector Morton.